


You should be so lucky

by skriftlig



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 08:03:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skriftlig/pseuds/skriftlig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A version of the new Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes Drinking Game finds its way into the 'eighth year' common room at Hogwarts. Someone gets lucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You should be so lucky

It seemed that Friday night in the eighth year common room was taking its usual drunken course, with games of gobstones and chess dominating proceedings, until Blaise Zabini stood on his chair and made an announcement. From then on, the evening became unlike any other Harry'd had at Hogwarts.

“No more talking about classes or homework tonight,” Zabini declared, looking around at his classmates. “I've got a version of the new Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes Drinking Game. Who's up for some real fun?”

“What's a drinking game?” Zacharias Smith asked over the tipsy cheers.

Malfoy exhaled noisily. “It's a game where we _drink_ things, obviously.”

“Muggle creation, isn't it?” Seamus put in.

Malfoy looked at him with a bored expression, but said nothing. He turned back to Zabini.

“In case you hadn't noticed, Blaise, some of us are already drinking.” He waved his glass for emphasis.

Zabini smiled indulgently at him and Harry's stomach tightened.

“But this is a very special sort of drinking we're about to do.”

Zabini held a brightly-coloured box above his head, where it swayed slightly. There was the sound of glass clinking.

“In here are mini-bottles of Firewhisky, each mixed with a different potion,” he told them. “We each drink one bottle and let the potions do their job for the evening.”

“What are the potions?” Hermione asked dubiously. Harry wondered if she was more suspicious of Blaise Zabini or George Weasley.

Zabini glanced at the back of the box and, with considerable effort, read them off.

“Amortentia , Beautifying Beverage, Draught of Desire, Elixir of Euphoria, Felix Felicis and Veritaserum.”

“I am _not_ having the Love Potion,” Ron said immediately, whipping his head back and forth between Hermione and Zabini.

“We don't get to choose, Weasley,” Zabini replied impatiently, raising his voice over the giggling coming from a group of girls by the fire. He looked eagerly around the room. “The bottles are unmarked so we don't know who's got which potion.”

“When will the effects wear off?” asked Terry Boot.

“Three hours.” Zabini glanced at the grandfather clock in the common room that pointed to ten o'clock. “So if we take them now, they'll be gone by one.”

“So we won't all have to listen to Weasley telling us that Potter's glasses are just _the sexiest thing_ for the rest of the weekend,” put in Malfoy, fanning himself in his chair. He got a loud chuckle from the room and two matching Gryffindor glares.

“Git,” Ron mumbled, but he didn't move away.

“So, hands up who's in?” called Zabini, hopping off his chair.

Hands flew up around the room, with varying degrees of enthusiasm and trepidation. Harry looked to Malfoy and was surprised to find him looking straight back. With the ghost of a sneer forming on his lips, Malfoy raised his arm and, not breaking eye contact, Harry's own hand rose to his unspoken challenge.

Zabini undid the box and offered the little bottles first to Malfoy, who peered at them closely. Harry was pleased to see the bottles were all the colour of Firewhisky so Malfoy couldn't guess at which contained which potion. Malfoy seemed to reach the same conclusion and he gave a small shrug and chose the one closest to him.

When the box reached Harry there were only four bottles left. He picked one and watched as Zacharias Smith and Hannah Abbott each chose, before Zabini took the one that was left. All eyes went to Zabini, who held his bottle in front of him. They formed a loose circle, copying him. There was a strange feeling of excitement and nerves and Harry doubted he was the only one wondering what potion he was about to take. He saw Malfoy eyeing his bottle warily.

“Cheers!” Zabini called, and tipped the bottle into his mouth.

Harry swallowed his drink. For a moment he only felt the familiar burn of the Firewhisky trickle down his throat and then a slow sense of confidence spread through him. He knew he needn't be worried about what potion he'd got. Tonight was going to be a great evening. Felix promised it.

Over the next hour or so, Harry listened to a deliriously happy Hermione talk about ideas for the newly-resurrected SPEW campaign, refused Eloise Midgen's increasingly desperate declarations of love and did his best to stop Ron from revealing every one of his crushes since coming to Hogwarts. He wondered vaguely what part of all this Felix Felicis considered good luck.

When Ron began an honest analysis of his and Hermione's sex life, Harry decided it was time to take a walk around the room. He passed Ernie Mcmillan and Pansy Parkinson, locked together on one of the sofas amidst a growing pile of their discarded clothes. Zacharias Smith was admiring his reflection in a hand-held mirror and Harry supposed that meant he'd drunk the Beautification Beverage. He couldn't really see it himself; okay, Zacharias was perhaps a little taller and more muscular than five minutes ago, but the blond hair that he kept running his hand over wasn't nearly as blond as... Harry shut down that train of thought, determined not to spend another evening pining for someone unattainable.

He was more successful than most evenings. Every now and then, he'd catch a glimpse of Malfoy's light eyes and sharp jaw in a crowd or hear his unmistakable drawl when he spoke. It soon became clear which potion Malfoy had taken, from the way he leant into Zabini a little too closely when they talked, or how his tongue ran seductively over his lips. Neither Harry nor Zabini were able to pull their eyes away when he did this and Malfoy had caught Harry staring more than once. Harry supposed he should count himself lucky that so far Malfoy hadn't publicly shown any bigger effects from the Draught of Desire.

After winning his fourth game of chess in a row against Ron, the large quantities of Firewhisky in Harry's system took effect and he felt his lids grow heavy. He headed to his dormitory, bidding the classmates he passed on his way goodnight. He saw Malfoy's interested gaze as he left, but found he didn't care what taunts he might hear in the morning.

By the time he'd got ready for bed, the other Gryffindor boys had followed.

“Lights out,” called Ron.

One by one, balls of light flew across the room and Harry's last clearly visible image was of Ron's hand placing the Deluminator on his bedside table. He smiled to himself; Ron had taken to using the little black device at every opportunity after Malfoy had grudgingly admitted he wished he had one.

Harry spelled the curtains shut around his bed and placed his wand and glasses on his own table. He lay on his side, eyes closed, confident of a good night's sleep.

He awoke from his dream shivering. He felt, rather than heard, something moving behind him. The mattress dipped gently and he realised the covers had been pulled down. Cool skin pressed against his back and legs, making him jump, and he suddenly realised three startling facts. One, someone had crept into his bed while he was asleep. Two, that someone was male. And three, he wasn't wearing anything.

He was dimly aware that normally he'd be shouting about now, but the comforting assurances from the Felix Felicis that still flowed in his veins prevented him. A hand reached up to his hair and the stranger delicately twisted strands between his fingers. He felt a rush of air blow over his ear and jaw and then a hot mouth was on his neck.

Kisses trailed down his throat and he felt his cock harden from the contact. He leant his head back and was rewarded with a sweeping tongue across his collar bone. The man made small, sharp bites along his shoulder, sucking lightly after each to ease the pain. Then the hand in his hair vanished.

“Turn around,” the man half-whispered, half-licked.

Slowly, Harry did as he was told. This was his lucky night and so he knew, in theory, before he turned, who he would see in his bed. His mind still reeled from the sight in front of him. Malfoy was lying on his back, the moonlight that made it through the bed hangings faintly illuminating his pale skin. His knees were pulled up with his legs spread apart and the outline of his lithe body was visible to Harry, even without his glasses.

One of Malfoy's hands was hooked underneath his leg and gripped something that Harry couldn't make out. As he watched, Malfoy withdrew a darkly-coloured object, about the length of his finger, before leisurely pushing it further inside himself again. Malfoy's other hand was clasped around his erect cock, its tip emerging and disappearing inside Malfoy's fist. Harry shifted in the bed; his prick strained uncomfortably against the material of his pyjamas.

He finally dragged his gaze up Malfoy's body; over his flat stomach and past the dim shadows that mapped the contours of his chest. Malfoy's head was tipped back slightly, exposing his slender neck. His nostrils were flared and the corner of his bottom lip was deep red where he'd been biting it, but his eyes were fixed on Harry's.

Harry wanted to ask what Malfoy was doing, but that was admittedly rather obvious. Malfoy took a sharp breath and Harry's eyes flew down to where the little dildo was rapidly vanishing inside Malfoy's body again. Harry wondered exactly how much Draught of Desire was in those little bottles.

“Where did you get that?” he croaked. His voice came out louder than he intended and someone grunted in their sleep. His heart hammered against his ribs.

Malfoy's hand slowed on the object, though he kept stroking himself, Harry couldn't help but notice. Malfoy smiled coyly up at him.

“I borrowed it,” he said smugly.

“Borrowed it from where? From who?”

Malfoy's eyes glittered and Harry's widened in horror.

“Malfoy! Put it back.”

“What do I get to use instead?” he pouted.

Harry stared at him.

“What do you get..?” he trailed off. “Malfoy, Ron will kill you if he finds out.”

“Will he? Then you'll have to find me something else to use. You _are_ supposed to have a saving people thing.”

Malfoy's arm snaked up the bed and the Deluminator appeared in his palm. Harry took it from him and placed it on his bedside table. It was warm and covered in a slippery liquid. He turned back to where Malfoy was gloriously spread out in his bed. A slow smile spread over his face.

“Okay.”

Harry caught Malfoy's look of triumph, before he rolled over. Harry moved tightly behind him, with his chest pressed firmly into Malfoy's back, and pulled his pyjama bottoms down just enough to free his stiff cock.

The silky fluid from the Deluminator still coated Malfoy's opening and Harry smeared it over himself. He raised himself up with one arm to get better access and inched forwards until his cock was nestled firmly between Malfoy's arse cheeks. He took a deep breath and pushed. A hot, slick and brilliantly tight pressure engulfed him. A soft, broken moan escaped from his throat and he scrunched his eyes shut to savour the feeling.

A clock chimed in the distance and with rising panic, Harry felt the Felix Felicis drain out of his body. A twisted, uneasy sense of dread knotted in his stomach and a wave of nausea hit him. He froze; he was in bed with his cock half-way inside Draco fucking Malfoy. What was he thinking? What was _Malfoy_ thinking? He kept his eyes tightly shut, not daring to look at the boy in front of him. He wondered desperately if there was any chance he could just pull out without his bedmate noticing. Or at least before he could say _Crucio_.

Neither of them moved. Harry's brain slowly started to catch up; apart from the fact he was clearly in the middle of shagging a boy who despised him, they were doing it in the middle of his dormitory with his housemates sleeping all round them. He tried to ignore the gnawing thought that Malfoy had been dosed with Draught of Desire when he'd got into Harry's bed. Harder to ignore was his cock, aching to be fully inside Malfoy.

Then Malfoy's muscles clenched tighter around him and Harry couldn't think at all. Malfoy rocked backwards, taking in Harry's entire length and Harry had to use all of his willpower not to come right there and then.

It was all the encouragement his prick needed. He withdrew slightly and thrust forward, his balls hitting Malfoy's arse and Malfoy's heat enveloped him again. He heard Malfoy gasp and move in time with Harry's stuttering rhythm.

“Fuck, Malfoy!” he called out.

His voice echoed around the room and both boys stopped dead again. Harry's eyes shot open. There was a rustle from one of the beds and Harry tentatively turned his head to see who it was. He made out the shadowy shape of Seamus through the bed curtains, shifting in his sleep.

Malfoy's hips ground into Harry impatiently and Harry obliged, slipping his hand over Malfoy's waist to grip his neglected erection, as he pummelled into him from behind. Malfoy's fingers curled into the pillow tightly and Harry felt a flash of satisfaction knowing he was the cause of it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw of a flicker of black ink and he watched the snake on Malfoy's forearm stretch and strain with every one of Harry's thrusts. He felt an incomprehensible jolt of jealousy for how close it was to Malfoy, how it got to touch Malfoy every second of every day. Harry wanted to burn on Malfoy's skin, stronger and more powerful than the Mark.

 _He's mine_ , he told the snake.

Malfoy shivered beneath him.

“Do that again,” Malfoy choked.

Harry tried to angle himself exactly as before and pushed into Malfoy forcibly.

“No,” Malfoy gasped. “Speak. Parseltongue.”

It took Harry less than a second to realise what had happened. He looked directly at the snake again and then at the back of Malfoy's head.

 _I want you. I want to fuck you until you're stuffed full of my prick._

He heard the hissing his tongue made as it rolled and flicked in his mouth merge with the needy sounds coming from Malfoy. And, safe in the knowledge that Malfoy couldn't understand him, the sentences spilled from his lips.

 _You are so fucking gorgeous. So hot and so horny, taking my cock up your arse. Merlin, I've wanted to fuck you for such a long time. You're perfect._

Malfoy was bucking beneath him and he threw his head back on the pillow. His breathing was ragged and desperate and the hottest thing Harry had ever heard.

“Potter, fuck, I'm going to...”

Harry screwed his eyes shut again and pressed his face into Malfoy's hair as the pressure built uncontrollably and his balls tightened. He breathed in a sweet, heady scent of aftershave and sweat and slammed into Malfoy one final time, pumping his cock unevenly.

 _Come for me._

He felt Malfoy's hot come spurt over his hand as his own seed exploded in Malfoy's arse. He collapsed on top of Malfoy, his chest sticking to the cooling sweat on Malfoy's back.

After several deep breaths, Harry was able to raise his head slightly. The clouds had shifted across the moon outside so the room was darker now, but he could make out Malfoy's closed eyes and the thin shadows his eyelashes cast onto his flushed cheeks.

Harry pushed himself off Malfoy and fell back on the other side of the bed. He risked a glance to his side. Malfoy hadn't moved, he'd made no effort to cover himself and Harry could see his own come dribbling down the inside of Malfoy's legs. Guilt clawed at him, clutching at his lungs until he struggled to breath. Malfoy had been under the influence of a potion and Harry had completely taken advantage of him. He cursed himself; things had been slowly improving between them this year and now he'd ruined it.

He refused to let the moment pass without saying something. He couldn't let Malfoy think he was a... think that he would ever... He fixed his eyes on his bed hangings and summoned his natural courage.

“Malfoy, I'm sorry. I didn't...” he cleared his throat. “I mean, I don't want... look, I understand if you think I took-”

“You didn't and I don't,” Malfoy interrupted sharply.

Harry wished he could see Malfoy's face. He felt the other boy shift next to him, though Malfoy resolutely didn't touch him. A quick spell later and all traces of Harry's efforts were gone from Malfoy's body. Now Malfoy did reach for the bed covers, pulling them up to his chin.

It was pretty obvious, even to Harry, that Malfoy didn't want to talk, but Harry was determined. He rolled back over and stared at the back of Malfoy's head, marvelling how his hair could shine in such dim light.

“I know you took a potion that made you... you know. And I tried to stop myself, but I just couldn't. You must hate me now, even more than before, but... I wanted to say I'm sorry.”

He heard Malfoy hiss in frustration.

“Potter, you really should pay more attention in Potions. The Draught of Desire can't induce lust like Love Potions do, it can only magnify what's already there.”

Malfoy sighed, but stayed facing away from Harry.

“If anyone should apologise, it's me. I practically forced myself on you, even though I knew you would never normally want-”

“No, I did want. I _do_ want.” Harry almost shouted. "I drank Felix Felicis- of course it's what I wanted." He paused, desperate for confirmation of what he thought Malfoy might have been trying to tell him. “And you? You... want this?”

Very slowly the blond head nodded. A warm, tingling feeling of happiness pooled in Harry's stomach, better than anything Felix Felicis could produce. He moved to spoon Malfoy again and looped his arm over Malfoy's waist, where it rested against his chest. He leaned his head behind Malfoy's, who made space for him on the pillow.

“Look, maybe next time we should do it without any potions.”

“Next time?” Malfoy repeated.

Harry's breath caught in his chest. Malfoy probably wanted to forget all about this and pretend it never happened; so he admitted to desiring Harry, that didn't mean he wanted anything more to happen. Harry waited, terrified, for Malfoy to shoot down the possibility of a next time.

But Malfoy gracefully turned around in Harry's arms, pushing Harry onto his back and climbing on top of his chest. Wisps of hair tickled his face as Malfoy placed a light kiss on his chin.

"You," he whispered, and Harry recognised the teasing tone of his voice. It was almost sweet when not armed with an insult.

Malfoy moved upward and kissed Harry's nose.

"Should."

Soft lips brushed one of Harry's eyelids that had fluttered closed.

"Be."

The other eyelid.

"So."

Harry felt Malfoy's mouth on his scar.

"Lucky."

Finally Malfoy's smirking lips found Harry's.


End file.
